


Nine Tenths

by TheLionOfStarlight (BasicallyAnIdiot)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little bit of angst, Clothing Kink, Fluff, It's really more of an ode to the clothing kink, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Snapshots, and fireworks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicallyAnIdiot/pseuds/TheLionOfStarlight
Summary: A relationship told through the appropriation of clothing.





	Nine Tenths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Die_Melodie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Die_Melodie/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS, ANNA! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy these five snapshots of two knuckleheads realizing they love each other! 
> 
> Big thank you to mother.hunk for betaing this!

**Nine Tenths**

**~*~*~*~**

**Socks**

**~*~*~*~**

Wet. It wasn’t quite enough to describe the deluge that encompassed the planet since the Paladins’ arrival, but it seemed to be the nicest word Shiro could muster at the moment.

Allura promised that this was a vital planet for the coalition. Getting an agreement to join from the locals was paramount to the war efforts. There seemed to be a lot of planets paramount to Voltron’s success.

It was a more pleasant planet than the previous two- more greenery. Spherical trees dominated, covered in translucent vines and flowers with colours Shiro never knew existed. A day in and they still hadn’t quite found the cities Coran said should be there. The Lions had been kept at the castle- lest their presence be taken for malicious purposes.

Shiro didn’t care for the political aspects: the decision left them vulnerable, and he spent his time looking over his shoulder. Just because they hadn’t been attacked didn’t mean they wouldn’t be. Didn’t mean that splash wasn’t a careless predator instead of a leaf overfilling and dropping it’s load.

It was a gradual thing. So subtle, that Shiro almost missed it.

Keith had dropped to the back of the group, normally confident stride slowed. The faint wincing of each step was unmistakable once Shiro started paying attention. He came up beside his friend, laying his flesh hand on a shoulder, “You okay?”

The quiet question earned a scowl. Keith glanced at the backs of the other Paladins before adding, almost in a whisper, “My feet are soaked.”

Soaked with no chance of drying out, on a hike with no end in sight? “Do you have a spare pair of socks?”

Keith was silent, not quite looking him in the eye.

Shiro bit back his sigh. Keith was still learning to trust his team. Still learning that showing weakness didn’t make him less strong and neither did relying on others.

He turned up his gaze up ahead on the quickly retreating backs of the Paladins. It seemed Keith wasn’t the only one needing to learn how to be a team player. Shiro had his work cut out for him.

Glancing around showed a slightly drier rock under one of the odd trees that grew there, “Come on. Let’s get you into some clean socks.” Clear of the downpour, Shiro dropped his pack on the rock, and started digging around in it. It was his last pair, wrapped in the Altean equivalent of plastic that smelled somewhat fruity.

Keith propped himself on the rock with a hop, wrestling his boots off. Tipping the first one, water trickled out in a stream. The second boot wasn’t much better.

The Red Paladin’s socks were soaked, dripping and making squishy sounds as Keith peeled them off. His feet were almost trashed- skin so saturated that blisters had formed anywhere there had been contact with the boot. Like the photos his instructors had shown him about why it was important to keep your feet dry. Care would have to be taken to prevent infection.

“You’re not walking any more today.” Shiro declared after one look, handing over the fresh pair of socks and immediately pulling out a first aid kit.

“I’m fine.” Came the textbook response, “I won’t slow anyone down.”

Shiro wasn’t entirely sure what kind of life Keith had prior to the Garrison, but he had a guess though. For all his toughness, Keith should have been bubble wrapped and covered in ‘Handle With Care’ tape. The Black Paladin started pulling out the gauze and tape, frowning softly, “It’s not about slowing anyone down, Keith. It’s about taking care of yourself.”

Honestly, Shiro expected more of a fight, more protest. But Keith must have been in more pain than he thought, because the younger man didn’t- going so far as to wince when Shiro picked up a foot to clean it. It was cold and clammy, skin tearing if he rubbed it at all.

Keith flinched and pulled his leg back out of Shiro’s reach, “I can do it.”

The taller man rolled his eyes, and smiled at his prickly counterpart, “You do one, I’ll do the other and we’ll get you back on your feet in no time.”

Violet eyes assessed him, like a feral cat assessed a child wanting to pet it. “You have the worst sense of humour.” Keith declared.

“Hey!” Shiro replied, mock wounded, “my sense of humour’s great.” He gingerly lifted the foot up and toweled it off as best he could with the kit’s pads. Keith got to work on his (other) foot, flinching in time with the rub of the towelette.

Wrapping the foot as tightly as he dared, with a layer of antiseptic covered in gauze, Shiro slowly tugged a heavy, thick sock over it. It was a little big for Keith, the Castle apparently made it custom for Shiro, but perfect for covering everything without compressing it too much.

The boots would not be going back on.

Keith scowled, and Shiro barely managed to get a hand on his bony shoulder to stop him from jumping off the rock in socked feet. “Hold it.”

Shiro took the plastic bags and wrapped one around each foot like cling wrap , protecting them from further water damage. Satisfied with the tightness, the Black Paladin leaned back with crossed arms and said, “Either you accept a piggyback ride to the Castle, or I throw you over my shoulder and carry you back.”

Keith eyebrows drew together in a fit and his mouth twisted to respond- likely a negative. Sack of potatoes it was. Shiro shrugged and moved faster than Keith did.

There was a moment of silence as Keith settled into his position over Shiro’s shoulder. “What the hell? Let me down, Shiro!”

“You looked like you were going to protest.” Shiro defended, “Didn’t want to give you the chance.”

Packing up the gear one handed was easy, Keith’s boots were tossed on top the pack. A few messages flew over the comms- the rest of the Paladins finally clued into their absence. Reassurances came and went, and Shiro made the tactic decision to change the plan because this sure as hell wasn’t working.

It was shockingly quiet on the hike back, that Keith wasn’t fighting him was… worrying. “You okay back there?”

It was probably for the best Keith couldn’t see Shiro’s face, because his sleepy answer made the Black Paladin flush. “I like the view.”

**~*~*~*~**

**Shirt**

**~*~*~*~**

Everyone in the room heard the shirt rip.

Considering that Lance and Keith were the two most flexible Paladins of the bunch, it should have been to the surprise of no one that their spars had a tendency of dancing close to acrobatics. Degenerating into arm locks and holds that pushed how far a joint could bend.

No, Shiro was not surprised that the clothing gave out before Keith did.

Lance was though, and the momentary lapse of concentration was all Keith needed to flip the situation to his advantage. He pressed the Blue Paladin’s head into the hard foam of the Castle’s training room floor, pinning limbs with body weight and control. There was a whine of, “Not the face!”

Keith, breathing hard, cracked a smile. The closest he ever got to team bonding. Heedless of the flaps of cloth over his torso that was once a shirt, he said, “Yield.”

Lance flailed for a couple seconds, struggling against the hold, before falling limp. His response was muffled but apparent.

Releasing the hold, Keith stood up and backed away. Lance shot to his feet stiffly, nose rubbed red. Not quite meeting the Red Paladin’s eyes, Lance added as a mumble, “Good fight.” Keith nodded his agreement, but said nothing.

Silence descended, stretched until awkward. Shiro sighed. Progress to make this into a team was slow, but there. He’d have to make due. Uncrossing his arms, pulling away from the wall, he came up to the duo.

Both were sweating hard, Lance grumpy about his defeat and Keith had signs that he was pleased with the turn of events. Smile faded to a faint twist of his lips- easy to miss.

Shiro smiled at Lance, “You did good, Lance. Keith just has more experience in groundwork.”

The pout dropped away from Lance’s sun kissed face, blue eyes bright with the praise. He shot two finger guns at Shiro, grin in place, “I’ll get him next time.”

“I’m sure you’ll try.” Keith muttered, folding his arms. The remains of his shirt flaps- apparently ripped right up the middle of the back, slipped forward with the action, almost falling off his slender shoulder.

Lance twitched, eyes narrowing and grin turned tight. Shiro spoke up before he could, “Lance- we should work on your escapes. You up for some coaching?”

It had the intended effect, preventing another fight from breaking out. Lance visibly brightened, Keith’s slight forgotten, “Yeah! That’d be awesome, Shiro!”

Without thinking about, Shiro rested a hand on Keith’s shoulder, ready to hold him back in case Lance said something without thinking about. It was only after his palm landed on warm skin, slick with beads of sweat, that Shiro realized his mistake.

Blood pound away under his palm, throbbing in time with Keith’s heartbeat, racing with the adrenaline of his spar. The heat was unreal, almost enough to burn- or at least feeling like it could. Muscles bunched and shifted under his as the words on the tip of his tongue fled in a rush. A drop of sweat slid into the side of his hand and, briefly, Shiro wondered what it would taste like if he took a finger and-

Someone cut-in. Keith. Worried. When did he become the one doing the looking after? “-Shiro? You okay?”

His throat felt like someone had stuffed cotton balls down it. Shiro’s voice fled in a squeak.

“Should he be that red?” Lance asked, concern colouring his voice, “Is he sick?”

“I don’t know,” came the retort, Keith pulled away to stand in front of Shiro. His shirt was still in tatters and showing off the faintly tanned skin, far too pale considering Keith lived in a desert most of his life, and lean muscles. Violet eyes assessed Shiro carefully, brows furrowed together in a wrinkle. Shiro could always smooth-

Oh shit.

A chill crept up Shiro’s arm, beginning where his hand first met the Red Paladin’s shoulder. Finally, he managed to swallow. “I’m fine.” He croaked, “Swallowed wrong.”

The answer had the two Paladins looking at each other, for once on the same page. “You sure you’re okay?” Keith asked again, shifting just enough for the shirt to slide forward and reveal the top of a gleaming pec-

Shiro coughed, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine-” Lance handed him a bottle of water, watching him like Pidge watched Coran make repairs on the ship: intrigued but also a little disturbed. “Thanks, Lance.” Keith didn’t look like he believed the Black Paladin but didn’t press.

Taking a gulp of water, Shiro swallowed and added, “We should get you another shirt, Keith. I think I have a spare in my bag.” He made it to the bench by the door, grabbed the article of clothing and turned back just in time to watch Keith pull off the remains of his shirt.

A strangled sound almost left Shiro’s throat at the sight, dying as a low wheeze in the back of his throat. Thankfully, Lance had taken it upon himself to poke Keith in the arm, distracting both of them from Shiro’s reaction. Red as a tomato, he tossed the bunched shirt and left with a, “See you both at supper.” Just about reached lightspeed on his way back to his room.

**~*~*~*~**

**Pants**

**~*~*~*~**

“The laundry machine ate my pants,” Keith announced when Shiro opened the door. The Paladin wore a crisp orange cadet jacket that contrasted with the purple scar on his cheek and the bright blue pajama pants he wore. “I need to borrow a pair.”

Shiro, awake all of two minutes, grunted softly in confusion. Trying to ask a question but the words not quite leaving with the sound.

Keith rolled his violet eyes heavenward, pushed forward with a shoulder and shoved a cup of coffee at the white haired man, who gripped it instinctively. “Pants. I need to borrow a pair.”

The coffee’s aroma jerked one of the gears into motion, and Shiro furrowed his brows together. He took a step back, blinking, letting Keith all the way into the captain’s cabin of Earth’s only spaceship capable of fending off a Galran attack. The Atlas’ hummed softly in the back of his mind, asking if he wanted the coffee pot on. He sent his agreement and thanks.

Keith moved with quiet grace even in pajama pants covered, Shiro realized after his first sip of coffee, in tiny tabby cats. Each step was sure, confident and balanced, with a straight back and unbowed shoulders. The growth spurt was something Shiro was still adapting to, he didn’t have to look down to meet Keith’s eyes any more. This was a far cry from the kid who stole a car; a young man tempered by war and the Blades and both had left their mark.

“Why?” Shiro asked after another sip of coffee and coherent thought had returned. The cabin wasn’t huge. With so many people on board living space had to be thought out and efficient, but there was a small kitchenette and an add-on bathroom. The bedroom was surprisingly big, fitting a queen size bunk and separated from the living space. Perks of being the Captain.

Crossing his arms, eyebrow arched, the ‘Red’ Paladin replied. “Because we have a meeting with the brass this morning and the laundry machine ate my good dress pants.” That… explained a lot actually. Keith waited until Shiro was taking another sip to add, “It’s the same meeting you’re supposed to be at in fifteen minutes.”

Choking on the hot drink, Shiro coughed hard, pounding on his chest with his human hand to clear his airway. “What-?” He wheezed. On time, the alarm on his PADD went off from the table. Shit- did he have a meeting this morning? He hadn’t showered yet either-

With a blank expression, though it had just a hint of unimpressed Krolia in it, Keith added slowly, “It was about planetary defences. Now that we’re ready to push the fight back to the Galra.” He paused, and then glanced away, “Nice boxers, by the way.”

Heat rose instantly to Shiro’s cheeks, because yes, yes he did open the door wearing only socks, boxers, and a tee-shirt. He had been lucky it was only Keith, and not a cadet or some other official.

… Keith saw him in his boxers, _oh no_ -

“I can hear you mentally panicking.” Keith cut in, unperturbed, walking towards the bedroom, “Go shower. I’ll get your uniform out, and grab some damn pants.” Keith finished with a mutter.

Shiro jerked out of his headspace, setting the empty coffee mug in the sink and heading to the bathroom quickly, “I didn’t say anything.”

Keith stuck his head out of the bedroom for the sole sake of leveling a completely unimpressed look at his friend. “Your face got stuck changing expressions.”

There wasn’t enough time to argue. Keith had already ducked back into the room by the time Shiro figured out a response. True to his word, Shiro’s uniform was hanging on the bathroom door handle when he was finished. Even better was the fresh cup of black coffee on the wall table beside it.

Clean and refreshed, fresh coffee in hand, Shiro wasn’t entirely prepared for the sight of Keith stepping out of his bedroom with dress pants as size or two too big on. The height, at least, was close.

He had always known that Keith was slim, but the visual of just how much slimmer had been hard to contemplate. If Shiro put a hand on Keith’s hip he would have been able to touch both front and back of the Paladin’s torso. His flush could be blamed on the shower… mostly.

“A little big,” Keith shook his head, “But good enough. You ready?” Soundlessly, Shiro nodded and followed the Paladin down the hall.

The view was nice.

**~*~*~*~**

**Jacket**

**~*~*~*~**

Keith, the Red Paladin, Leader of Voltron, and victor over the Galra empire sat on the edge of the roof, hiding from the celebrating crowds below. He had one leg pulled up close to his body, resting an arm on his knee, and his sharp chin rested on the arm. Half-finished beer dangled loosely from a hand, condensation dripping about mid-way down a label in an alien language. His other leg dangled over the side.

It was like looking back in time. Before Kerberos, before Voltron, before the war and fights and battles.

But this Keith was so much taller, with slim shoulders strong enough to hold the hopes and dreams of humanity. An unruly mop of dark hair had grown long enough for a small braid to be added just behind an ear. Tradition, Krolia explained once as her fingers twisted and pulled the hair into order. Something that only family did. He had ditched the Garrison uniform like the rest of them, instead sat out in the desert air with nothing more than a long-sleeved shirt and dress pants. He had outgrown the rest of his clothes with the sudden growth spurt from the quantum abyss.

Keith was beautiful.

Shiro’s question lodged in his throat as the thought dug deep into his mind, clawing into the space between his ribs like a knife. He had been ignoring it, there was always something else on the horizon requiring their focus and energies. Contentment had been found in the nearness, and the comradery. The war was over now and the streets were filled with joy below because of it. They had time now.

Finding Keith had been a challenge- the Paladin’s time with the Blades made the younger man even tricker to find- but there were still a few minutes to convince him to come inside and hang out-

A firework shot up from the barracks, dread filling Shiro’s heart as he saw it’s sparkling tail, exploding in the night sky and framing Keith in reds and golds.

They were early.

Everything felt cold- it could have been any number of the battles they had been through. With one false move between them and the empty void of space they fought in. Sound never travelled through the lions the same way it did on a planet, but the jerk and stumble, the seconds lost to recovery-

“Shiro. We’re okay.” Soft. He knew that voice. Heard it so many times over the coms- doing reckless maneuvers learned from him. Doing them better, even. Dodging lasers and missiles that would have ended everything if they had hit-

“Shiro. It’s midnight. We’re on earth. We’re standing on the roof like we used to. We’re safe.” He sucked in a breath like he had been underwater for hours, head bent over to rest on a shoulder. The explosions racked through his memories, “Shiro.” A hand came up to the back of his neck, long fingers brushing the stubby undercut. “It’s okay. We’re safe. The fireworks are over now.

“It’s past midnight now,” Keith continued, his breathing controlled, his own shakes contained as his fingers combed through white hair. “I’m going to kill whoever thought fireworks were a good idea.”

A laughter tore its way out of Shiro, hidden between shakes. He took a breath, “You shouldn’t.”

The fingers paused, the warmth of the hands seeping into Shiro’s body. “I wouldn’t get caught.”

Sulphuric smokiness clogged the air, but lacked the aftertaste of blood and dirt. Shiro almost gagged anyway. It took a couple of tries to say, raggedly, “Not the point.” Keith’s fingers moved up closer to his crown, threading through the strands and rubbing his scalp. Silent support as he chased the stress away. Shiro could feel the blood pounding up the Paladin’s neck through his cheek, and used the steady beat to keep time.

The air cleared slowly, taking the sulphur and memories with it. Keith leaned into him a hair, just enough that when he spoke it ghosted over Shiro’s ear. “What were you doing up here?”

“Hm?” He could pull the younger man closer, hide them away from the rest of humanity for a day and hold onto that warmth. His arms had already wrapped around Keith’s waist. Shiro wasn’t sure when he did that.

A huff of laughter against his ear, warm and comforting. He liked that sound. “I asked what you were doing up here.”

Pulling away took all the strength Shiro had left. It was just enough to meet the violet-eyed gaze of his friend. Moonlight coloured his friend in silver: his tongue betrayed him at the sight and felt glued to the roof his mouth. Shiro forced himself to speak anyway, “I was going ask you if you wanted to watch a movie with me.”

Keith withdrew his hands, the sudden lack of pressure was noticeable. His step back felt like a punch to Shiro’s gut. Panic almost returned in spite of his exhaustion, the edge of it’s blade all but stabbing him. Had he misjudged? Was his memory wrong? Everything from that fight was scrambled but that moment, that declaration, had been crystal clear. Keith had been clear.

Was he too late?

“Sure,” Keith shrugged, a soft smile on his face, “Got to be one of the stupid ones you like though or I’m going to bed.” Shiro almost doubled over in relief catching himself at the last moment. It was enough that Keith’s hawklike gaze focused on him and his smile turned into a faint frown, “Are you okay?”

“I was physically wounded by your comment on my classic films.” Came the lie, Shiro straightened back to his full height, “I’m sure I’ll recover.”

The reply was a disbelieving snort, but Keith didn’t push. Instead, he turned back to where he had abandoned his beer- moving with the economical grace he carried with him since his return- to pick it up. Like a cat on the prowl: nothing wasted and each step deliberate. Against the light of the moon, the Paladin’s shivers were obvious.

Hindsight was stupid: Shiro wasn’t the only one to have lived through a war.

Before he could think about it, Shiro took off his bomber jacket and set it over Keith’s shoulders as he stepped past. It was too big, swallowing the slim man.

Keith stopped. His brows furrowed, lip tilted down in a corner, as he looked back over his shoulder. “Shiro?”

It was a memory Shiro wanted to keep. The way his jacket blanketed Keith so thoroughly, the clear sky behind him, full of the blinding stars they had travelled together. Silvery moonlight coating everything. Tousled hair and lean muscles. Soft lips and violet eyes.

A low pull tugged in Shiro’s stomach, dangerous in all the ways the war hadn’t been. Something that couldn’t have been entertained between battles- something that Shiro _hadn’t let_ cross his mind. Always shoved down when it surfaced. He was tired of fighting. Tired of being broken- fireworks could set him off and Keith deserved so much better-

Seconds ticked by. Keith turned back slowly, never once breaking eye contact, face smoothed into a blank expression.

Shiro should say something. Anything. Before he messed this up further. Or was it already gone with the war- beyond his touch to begin with even when he finally found it?

“I’m tired of this.” Keith sighed, and the bottom of Shiro’s stomach fell. His heart pounded in his ears, the worst of his fears playing out in front of him and there was nothing he could do as Keith went on. “If I go back with you, I won’t leave.”

Oh.

Joy bubbled up, pulling Shiro’s lips into a smile wider than he had had in years. He stuck his hand out, “Come back with me?”

The return smile was small but blinding, and sent Shiro’s heart racing. The hand Keith placed in his gripped him tightly.

**~*~*~*~**

**Boxers**

**~*~*~*~**

Sunlight filtered in the kitchen through the bay windows, warming the seats at the kitchen table. The glass sliding door beside it opened just enough for Kosmo to slip in and out if the wolf didn’t feel like teleporting. Shiro leaned back against the island considering the paint patches on walls.

Previous owners had kept to a very bland palate of wall colours- mostly off-white. Next to it, the sunflower yellow Hunk had suggested was impossibly bright and happy but Shiro was favouring it over the dusty rose Lance pointed out. Pidge’s neon green had been discounted almost as quickly as it had been suggested. He took a sip of coffee and figured a nice dark green as the accent would help temper the yellow. A far cry from the sleek edges of the bone-white Garrison apartment they had been in beforehand.

There was a rush of water through pipes upstairs, and Shiro turned just enough to pour another cup of coffee- the last of the pot. His timing was good. Keith stumbled his way to the bottom of the stairs with a yawn. Wearing nothing but one of Shiro’s old tee-shirts that dangled near his knees. Shiro had long since given up on ever getting the shirt back.

Keith accepted the filled mug with a grunt. Like a cat, the younger man pressed into Shiro’s side and ducked his face into the nook of Shiro’s neck- mug of coffee held close.

Shiro leaned into the warmth, his prosthetic arm rested on a bony hip, “Good morning,” Unruly hair tickled his nose when he kissed the top of Keith’s head. A sleep tossed messy braid, frayed from it’s usual tame appearance, fell over a shoulder. The younger man grunted the affirmative- almost unrecognizable to his usual alert morning self.

“When did you make it in last night?” It had been an unusually long trip, even for the Black Lion. Felt like Shiro hadn’t seen Keith in ages.

Keith dropped his weight against Shiro, forcing the older man to support him. “Stupid late,” he murmured, pulling himself up just enough to gulp his coffee, “Maybe 3-ish.”

“I didn’t hear you come in,” the captain continued, moving his own coffee mug a hair out of reach. Violet eyes watched the move intently.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” Keith stood up, supporting his own weight again, and downed the rest of his coffee.

It never ceased to surprise Shiro how sneaky the younger man could be. He was a light sleeper, and normally woke up when Keith came to bed late. Waking up to his partner already in bed had been a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“You didn’t,” Shiro replied. “I don’t think you even woke up Kosmo.”

Keith snorted, slipping an arm in the gap between Shiro’s arm and torso, and set his emptied mug down on the counter. He didn’t move his arm after. Instead, Keith leaned in and kissed the hollow of Shiro’s collarbone. “He’s useless as a guard dog.”

Breath whispered against the spot where Keith’s lips brushed him, chilling the area in a pleasurable way. Goosebumps rose even in the warm summer air. Coherent thought left. Shiro hummed an agreement, bringing his human arm up around Keith’s waist. Loose. Enough for Keith to slip out, if he wanted to.

Like a viper, Keith reached behind him and stole Shiro’s coffee from the counter. Stepping back out of reach quickly, he took a long gulp with a happy sigh.

There was a indignitic squawk of protest, and a scramble around the kitchen to reclaim the coffee. Keith was quick and light on his feet, always dodging or putting a piece of furniture between him and his partner.

Shiro probably could have caught him, with a little extra effort. But the game continued for a few minutes more, ending when Keith stopped long enough to have another sip. It was a struggle to stop before he ran into the back of his partner, but Shiro managed to not bowl Keith over. His prosthetic gripped the coffee mug as he wrapped an arm around his coffee-stealing boyfriend.

Bringing the mug into view, Shiro scoffed at the sight of the white porcelain bottom. “You drank it all?”

“The pot was empty.” Keith shrugged, a motion was felt right through the worn cotton tee-shirts they wore. Rubbing against Shiro’s chest like a content cat.

The Atlas’ captain huffed, wrapping his arms around a slender waist. With one hand sliding up whipcord thigh muscles, his fingers caught on thin fabric hidden under the shirt. Shiro risked a glance and smiled against the skin of Keith’s neck at the tabby cat face on cotton. “Thief.” He accused with a nip.

“Only with important things.”

“Like my boxers?”

A chuckle tumbled out of the shorter man’s mouth- deep, smooth, and fleeting. Shiro savoured every syllable. “Like I said,” Keith stretched against Shiro, muscles rippling through the thin shirts, “important things.”

Then he pulled away from the embrace, leaving Shiro behind as he made his way to the stairs. “I’m heading back to bed.”

“You just had two cups of coffee.” Shiro frowned and crossed his arms. “You can’t be feeling tired now.”

Keith shot him a look he had definitely stolen from Krolia, and Shiro flushed in spite of himself. “I’m not.” The thin line of Keith’s lips twitched into a sly smile, “Want to come too?”

Shiro’s face reddened further even as the implications set in. The first sound he made was a cough. “Was that a pun?”

Another shrug though Keith’s smile hadn’t faded, “Only one way to find out.” He disappeared back up the stairs.

Shiro was not dumb; he followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say 'hi' to me on either on my [main Tumblr blog](https://basicallyanidiot.tumblr.com/) or find me on my [Sheith side-blog](https://thelionofstarlight.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
